Flashback
by soup-tomato
Summary: {sorta Universe Alteration?, post-movie} There's always been something...different about Swizzle Malarkey. Not that he was crazy or anything, just... different. He spoke Spanish instead of Japanese, lived in a tree house, had an official nickname...but there was never any real reason behind it. Well, until Story Mode was unlocked, that is.


**((All characters mentioned in this fanfiction are from the 2012 movie Wreck it Ralph, owned by Disney.))**

He shouldn't have rolled out of bed that morning.

Yeah, maybe if he hadn't woke up, his whole life wouldn't have taken a dip for the worse and flashed him the bird on the way down. Who would have known that one Player, one quarter, one high score could change his life? And who would have known he'd lose everything because of things he didn't remember doing?

Maybe nobody could have seen it coming. Maybe fate was just really, _really _pissed off at him for something he did and finally got around to getting its revenge.

Man, fate was a jerk.

There were bigger jerks, though. Turbo? Yeah, he was a grade-A jerk. The cause of every single problem he was going to have for the rest of his life, and the guy wasn't even around anymore. Rancis? He's a jerk too, sure, acting all pompous and arrogant. But the biggest jerk?

It only dawned on Swizzle after months and months that the biggest jerk was himself.

_La puerta hacia el amooooor… _

And, just like every morning, Swizzle was interrupted from his sleep by Spanish pop music. Lovely.

The boy groaned, rolling on his side and rubbing his eyes. What time was it? Well, at least if his alarm went off, he hadn't slept late (like the day before). Swizzle yawned and rolled out of bed, humming lightly to the music playing from the radio while he tried to manage his hair and look presentable for the races. The same routine played out every morning, but he didn't mind much anymore. Put on a clean shirt, wash your face, brush your teeth, blah blah blah. Oh, well.

"A'ight, where's my racin' helmet now…?"

He mumbled, tearing through his house on a search for his helmet. Well…not exactly a house. More like…a cabin. A tree house, really. Just his luck, all the other racers had been programmed with neat little cottages and homes and he got a tree house.

(Or, at least, that's what he thought. Nobody really remembered much of the first couple of months after the game had been plugged in.)

"Where did it…oh."

There it was, rolled under the little desk he called a kitchen table. Swizzle kicked it out from under the table and picked it up, swinging it on his head as he walked out the door and climbed down the ladder…then tripped and fell the way down. Lucky him.

After taking a few moments to check his clothes for rips and brush the chocolate dust off his pants, Swizzle shrugged it off and hopped into his kart. The keys wouldn't work the first couple of times, but his Tongue Twister was reliable-it started up eventually. (Maybe the keys were another sign he shouldn't have got up.)

Nothing (yet) seemed to be able to crush Swizzle's good mood, however, and he started driving over to the race track. The _Sugar Rush _theme song played softly in the background, and he simply hummed along; unlike most of the racers, Swizzle couldn't understand Japanese, so it wasn't like he could sing along and actually have a clue what he was saying.

_Heh, maybe today's my lucky day! Bet I can get a freak accident and beat Rancis for once._

With a confident smirk on his face, Swizzle drove up to the racetrack, pulling down the visor on his helmet and looking at the other racers. He usually didn't get much of a positive reaction from them, but never a really negative one, either. Today didn't seem to be one of those usual days, however.

Swizzle was met with wide eyes and glares (and one gasp from behind him.) Why was everybody acting like that? Did he do something wrong? The boy shot a confused look over at the President in the front of the lines, who wouldn't meet his gaze. Okay, something _definitely _was wrong there. He usually got a couple of friendly trash talk lines out of Vanellope before the races.

"Hey, c'mon! Why's everybody lookin' at me like that…?"

Nobody dared respond.

Well, there was nothing you could do about it-a voice boomed 'QUARTER ALERT' as one of the gamer children inserted a coin into the console. Everyone else took their places and waited.

"Oooh, what's this 'ere? _Story mode? _Neva' seen that before."

The child chirped, accent clearly giving her away as one of those tourists from up in the northeast. Well, at least somebody sounded like him. But…story mode?

"When did we get a story mode?"

Swizzle mumbled quietly, hoping somebody would answer him. No response.

The girl turned the steering wheel to select it, picked her character (Vanellope, of course; she was getting really popular lately), and waited for the race to start as normal. Instead, a cutscene played on the screen for both the child and the racers to see.

A racer clad in a helmet with a visor and a blue jacket approached the group of racers standing on the track in the cutscene, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. Wait, was that…? No. It couldn't be.

'_Well, if it isn't von Schweetz. You've come back 'gain, huh? Sorry, doll, but this is gonna be the last time you and your little friends step foot on this track. When I win, things are gonna change around here. Say goodbye to your sugary little ruler and hello to the new monarch of Sugar Rush, ya little brats!'_

_The racer thundered with a smirk. Vanellope, backed up by the rest of the racers, stood bravely in front of him with her head held high, and replied with a confident voice._

_'Fat chance! I'll protect my kingdom and my friends with all I've got. You're not gonna win this race, because we are!'_

_The racer in blue sneered, mumbling something under his breath in fluent Spanish and rolling his eyes. "Fine, then! We'll see 'bout that, shortcake." Then the cutscene ended.  
_There was no doubt in his head at that point who the mysterious racer was. As much as he wanted to believe it wasn't true, as much as he was wishing this was all a bad dream, there was no denying who this villain was.

And, just his luck as always, the villain was him.

So…what was he supposed to do now? Vanellope gave him a hasty glance, mouthing instructions along the lines of 'act nasty'. As strange as this all was, Swizzle didn't want his game unplugged, and followed her orders.

The racer's lines came to him just as he was about to speak. He didn't want to go through with this, but…

_"Let's shake things up around here, huh? Adios, suckers!"_

Swizzle called to the other racers with the meanest smirk he could give. Just like what he supposed was supposed to happen, his comment was met with disapproving headshakes and mumbles. Or…did they actually think he was cruel like that?

Well, nothing else to do after that. The race began very shortly after.

Vanellope won, of course. What did you expect-the bad guy to win on easy mode?

After that one game, the races ran smoothly-people came and went, playing the normal version of the game (thank Code for them). Nobody selected him, as was becoming normal, but his mind was on other things at the moment. Since when was he some kind of villain, wanting to take over Sugar Rush? And how come he couldn't remember being like it before?

The day dragged on very slowly, until that rocker girl from the dancing game yelled 'ALL CLEAR!' and everyone was able to relax. Swizzle breathed a sigh of relief, then jumped out of his car and frowned.

"Oh, no no no, you guys ain't goin' anywhere! Can somebody _please _explain ta' me where that all came from?"

He called out to the crowd. Most of them ducked their heads and kept walking, but one turned around and glared at him.

"You should _know _what you did, Malarkey! Don't pull that crepe, 'cause we're not falling for it!"

They snapped and kept walking. Swizzle leaned back a little in surprise, before his shoulders sagged and he prepared to get back into his kart and drive home. Would he ever know what was going on now?

"'Ey! Swizz! Can I talk ta' ya…?"

Somebody squeaked from behind him. Huh, so somebody _did _hang around…Swizzle turned his head, facing the girl with a confused and angry look.

"What're you gonna do? Be decent enough ta' tell me something?"

The girl nodded grimly. Vanellope tugged on a hoodie string, slowly approaching.

"Yea'. Look, 's kinda a long story, so I hope you weren't plannin' on goin' anywhere today. Follow me."


End file.
